


"Cathy, I'm lost", I said, though I knew she was sleeping

by ThisShipHasSails



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, the hug 13 deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShipHasSails/pseuds/ThisShipHasSails
Summary: The Doctor won't tell them what's going on. Or so they think.Set some time mid-series 12, definitely before the finale.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	"Cathy, I'm lost", I said, though I knew she was sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fanfic in ages, though I’ve been wanting to, but I was struck by writer’s block and a lack of inspiration. Until this morning, when I listened to First Aid Kit’s version of Simon and Garfunkel’s "America", which is a thing of beauty, and from which I took the title for this story, because it screams 13. My fingers still feel rusty, though, and I wish this story were better than it is, so please be kind (and do leave kudos and/or comments, if you want to. They really mean a lot!) 
> 
> Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

It's the middle of the night in the middle of space, and she knows she shouldn't be here, but she can't help herself. 

In fact, she hasn't been able to help herself for a while now. Ever since she set foot on her home and realised that she was walking through ashes. 

She’s been around long enough to know that it’s the people that make a place. 

_Well. Until they don’t_ , she thinks as she turns her back to the ruins that were once her home and returns to the TARDIS and to the only thing that sets her mind at ease these days: three souls, asleep and alive. 

And while it’s the middle of the night, at least according to Earth time, she knows that she won’t sleep, can’t sleep. Because who needs sleep when all it brings is dreams of a world on fire. She certainly doesn’t. Not for that.

So she comes to them in the middle of the night and tells them all about it. She knows she shouldn’t, because watching people sleep is inherently creepy, but she tells herself that she is not here to watch, she is here to talk, which they constantly ask her to do anyway when they are awake, so surely they won’t mind while they are asleep. 

She knows her logic is flawed, but it’s not like they care, she tells herself, they’re asleep, after all, and she deserves the little bit of peace that these stolen hours grant her.

Also, it’s as good an excuse as any to check that they are still breathing.

Some nights, she visits Graham first. Sits in the light blue armchair in the far corner of his room, a couple of feet away from his bed, and tells him about River. Has one-sided conversations about the wives they have both loved and lost, and how she is still, even after so many loves and losses, unconvinced that it gets any easier with time. As if time could ever make a difference, could ever do something as miraculous as heal wounds. _Time can’t do that_ , she tells him, _only people can_. And she should know, she adds. After all, time’s in her title. 

Other nights, she finds herself in Ryan’s room, sunk in the depths of the big green bean bag that she will never learn how to get up from other than on all fours. The first time that happened, Ryan could not stop laughing for a good twenty minutes, and she swears gravity works differently when it comes to that thing and has half a mind to get out her sonic to prove her point to Ryan when she remembers that Ryan is fast asleep in his bed across the room. So instead, she tells him about red grass so high and children so small they could play hide and seek on the plains until twin suns set on the horizon and the moon rose over an open field.

Most nights, however, her feet carry her to Yaz’s room. It’s a room that is alive with memories of their early days together when their friendship was rapidly developing into something more. When showing affection was as easy as locking eyes and when the unspoken promises between them made her believe again in the words of the poets. Some nights, these memories are so tangible that she thinks it would be enough to stretch out her hand and pluck them out of thin air. 

Tonight is one of these nights, and it makes her ache with longing for the sheer optimism of these early days, when this body was young, even though her mind wasn't, and when everything was new and full of hope. 

And then she remembers that it's all broken now, all burned to the ground, and she thinks it's the first time in many lifetimes that she really allows herself to hate him, when she realises that he has not only destroyed their home and their past, but also robbed her of her future. Of one version of it anyway. The one where she gets to live, if not a happily ever after, then at least a hopeful present. 

It’s only when her vision gets so blurry that she can’t see Yaz’s bed anymore that she realises that she’s crying. And it’s only when she sinks to the floor next to that bed that she realises that she doesn’t have any strength left to stand anymore. So, instead, she lets gravity do the work again, draws her knees to her chest and rests her head on the mattress, not far away from Yaz’s face that is so peaceful in sleep that she has to close her eyes in order not to be overcome by emotion.

A mistake, she realises the minute her lack of sight enhances her other senses and she now feels Yaz’s warm and steady breath in her hair. A distraction at the best of times, and now is not one of these. But her eyes refuse to open again and she couldn’t move now even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. So she settles into her nightly ritual of answering Yaz’s daily questions about her home and herself. About who she was before they met and who she wanted to become. 

And she tells her that she meant it when she told them to travel hopefully. To be open to the surprises of the universe. She had meant all of it. And she had really wanted it. Had really wanted her, too, and all the promises of new beginnings. 

“But it’s all gone now, Yaz. All destroyed.” And she is crying again now, though the mattress soaks up her tears and mutes her sobs. 

“I’m lost, Yaz”, she says, because she knows she’s sleeping. 

But then she becomes aware of a change in pressure in her hair as Yaz’s breath is replaced by her fingers that draw soothing circles on her head. 

“Doctor”, and it’s the sleepy sound of her chosen name that stops her instinctive panic of having been caught out and her equally instinctive flight response. “Come to bed?”

And before she can change her mind, she takes off her boots, followed by her suspenders and trousers, and she lets herself sink into Yaz’s waiting arms.

And for the first time in a long time, she feels at home.


End file.
